


Listen

by closet_fujoshi (chaotic_souljam)



Category: Free!
Genre: Free! Kink Meme, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:55:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaotic_souljam/pseuds/closet_fujoshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto talks; Haruka listens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> De-anon from the kink meme. Also, if anyone I know in real life realises I wrote this, I think I'll just crawl under a rock and die. So in the event that anyone who knows me reads this, please never mention it to me because that would be really awkward (Note: my pseud is not just for show XD)

_It should be here somewhere._

Haru pulls the last box from the back of the closet, scanning the contents with a frown. There is the pack of coloured pens that his parents had bought him after seeing the edges of his notebooks filled with rough sketches of dolphins and mackerel and anything Haru thought was nice, really. He had never gotten around to using them—he preferred the simplicity of a pencil drawing—but he had appreciated the thought nonetheless. He carefully moves it and a large pack of batteries out of the way. He nudges aside an old one-armed action figure and a worn copy of Shonen Jump.

"Ha." _Found you._

Triumph, then smug satisfaction, flits across Haru's face before he shakes it off. Feeling victorious over having found the old cassette player he had been looking for is kind of ridiculous and not very like him at all. He pushes the power button to see if it needs new batteries. It doesn't, but he grabs a couple from the box beside him anyway.

He shoves the box back into the closet and makes his way to his room, curiosity pushing him to an almost run. He settles for a brisk walk instead.  
  
  
  
 _"I'll just leave this here, okay?"_

_"Aa."_

_Makoto leaves for home, but not before one last reminder that even Haru can't stay in the bath all night despite it being Friday and therefore there is no real need to wake up early the next day. Haru mutters a quiet 'hai' then submerges himself in the water._

_He peers over the edge of the tub at the bag Makoto had left for him and scowls. He knows he should be grateful that Makoto is generously letting him mooch off his notes but Haru has zero interest in English so he feels a bit put-out that Makoto—in his own, gently insistent way—is coercing him into studying._

_Well, they were going to be having a test soon after all. Or so Haru thinks as he stares at his wrinkly fingers._

_He climbs out of the tub with a sigh, shaking the water from his hair. As an afterthought, he grabs the bag._

_He is a bit too careless though, because he manages to spill half its contents on the bathroom floor. Haru kneels down, gathering everything and pushing them back into the bag haphazardly._

_He picks up a casette tape. He didn't know they still made those. Haru turns the plastic case over to see Makoto's name scrawled on the plastic in Ran's large handwriting. Beside it is her own and scribbled in the bottom right corner is Ren's name written in the younger boy's careful script._

_"Hm."_

_That casette player his grandmother had given him should still be somewhere in the house._  
  
  
  
  
Haru slumps back onto his bed, earbuds in his ears plugged into the casette player. He hits play, and a whirring sound reverberates around his room as the tape comes to life. 

_"Onii-chan, is it working?"_

_"See that red light? That means it's recording."_

_"Yay!"_

The twins must have found a recorder lying around in the house somewhere and thought it would be fun to play with.

_"I'm Tachibana Ran! I like watching Gatchaman and eating ham and candy and playing with Onii-chan. I--"_

_"Me too! Let me join too!"_

A fond smile lifts the corners of Haru's mouth. Ren and Ran are like his own siblings; he had spent enough time at the Tachibana house that it is practically his second home. He and Makoto had taken care of them on nights when their parents wanted to go out on a date to 'rekindle the old spark', as Mr. Tachibana had told them with a wink. 

_"You can do it later! I got it first!"_

_"But...but, I found it..."_

Haru frowns. Ran has a strong personality compared to her twin, which often makes Haru feel symphathetic towards Ren who is a bit too much like Makoto in that he doesn't really stand up for himself. That's probably why he let Ren cling to him so much; it reminds him of the way Makoto used to attach himself to Haru back when Haru was taller than the brunet and was, by definition, the one who could make the scary things go away. Now, even though Makoto never really grew out of his fear of the dark and the unknown, he limits himself to only clutching Haru's sleeve when he was afraid to the point that he could hardly move and thus needs Haru to pull him forward.

_"Now, now, no fighting."_

Makoto's gentle voice is calming even when filtered through the earbuds. Haru closes his eyes, listening to Ren and Ran alternating between arguing and talking about what they like to do and Makoto chiming in with a comment or two. 

Their banter lulls Haru to drowsiness so when it peters out, he doesn't bother with pulling out the earbuds. He curls up on his side, clutching the now-silent player in his left hand.

A soft click signals when the tape flips to side B.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Hey."_

Makoto's voice sounds shy and hesitant, reminiscent of their childhood when Makoto would try to hide behind Haru whenever he was scared or nervous. Makoto must have recorded this on a whim or perhaps nostalgia for the days when he used to record their conversation even if it was just mostly him talking. For posterity, he had proudly announced, although Haru privately thinks that it was more to do with the novelty of having a recorder than actually preserving something for their future selves.

_"I wonder if you can hear my heartbeat. It's beating so fast, I wouldn't be surprised if you can."_

The long pause after that is punctuated by Haru's own erratic pulse. It feels intimate, listening to Makoto like this. Lying on his bed, he can almost imagine Makoto beside him, whispering in his ear. That thought brings heat pooling low in his abdomen. He probably shouldn't be listening to this; this would be considered a breach of privacy, wouldn't it?

Haru's thumb hovers over the power button. Curiosity and respect for the brunet's privacy war within Haru.

_"As I thought, I---no, it's nothing."_

Haru mutters a quick 'sorry' to Makoto. He would be up all night thinking about the tape if he stopped now. 

A long sigh that Haru could have sworn was his name floats into his ears. It must have been his imagination, but hearing Makoto like that, so close, so needy, stokes the slow burn in his groin to a crackling fire. 

Haru's breath shortens to shallow pants. The room begins to feel stiflingly hot so he pulls his shirt over his head and throws it carelessly onto the floor, leaving him in only his jammer. Haru briefly contemplates taking that off too but decides against it. The earbuds had been ripped from his ears when he stripped his shirt off, so he hurriedly pushes them back in place before he misses anything.

_"It's raining. Can you hear it?"_

He can. It is faint, but he can just barely pick out the steady plip-plop of raindrops on the roof. Haru listens for a few more minutes, savoring the harmony of Makoto's soft breathing and the sound of the rain. 

His dick hardens as thoughts of water and Makoto swirl around in his head. An image of Makoto in bed as rain splashed against his window solidifies in his mind. Haru lets out a low groan, trying to will his erection down because having an erection while thinking about your best friend is highly inappropriate, even for Haru who normally doesn't care about propriety. It was a little late for that though, because no amount of willpower can erase the fact that listening to Makoto's voice had turned Haru on, something that not even the gravure magazines Nagisa had given him as a joke could do.

_"Can I tell you a secret?"_

The vulnerability in Makoto's voice sends another wave of arousal crashing into Haru. He moans softly, palming the growing bulge in his jammer. Makoto doesn't have to know about this anyway so it should be fine. Really. He pushes the niggling guilt at using his best friend like this to the back of his mind where it would stay until he is ready to confront it.

Makoto's breathing becomes shaky. Haru can tell that he is nervous; he can almost see Makoto biting his lip like he does when he wants to say something but can't. Even so, Haru's lust-addled brain insists on latching on to his voice as the trigger for all the blood to rush down south. It's ridiculous, and Haru would have laughed at himself if not for the painfully hard problem in his jammer.

He flips over on all fours, rutting into the bed as he continues to listen to Makoto. The rhythmic friction is delicious, and for a few moments it is enough. Until he hears Makoto exhale tremulously. There is something about a flustered Makoto—he would be trying to hide that adorable little blush that really shouldn't look that cute but it just _does_ because it's Makoto—that makes Haru lose what tenuous hold he had on himself.

He slips a hand beneath himself, pushing past the waistband of his jammer to grip his cock firmly. The sigh that escapes his lips is embarassingly loud, so he muffles his mouth with his free hand. Haru isn't used to being vocal, so even when he was alone like this he still feels like he had to keep quiet. It is irrational paranoia stemming from the fact that _oh god, he can still hear Makoto breathing in his ear_ that had him believing that Makoto might hear him feverishly mumbling his name as his hand moves up and down his throbbing dick. He thumbs the tip of his cock, groaning as waves of pleasure threaten to short-circuit his brain. 

_"Truth is, I've loved you for a long time now, but I just couldn't say it."_

Haru's eyes fly open. Jealousy, hot and uncomfortable, momentarily stills his hand's movement. A confession? To whom?

_"You're the one I really love. I want to make you mine, but that's probably impossible."_

The raw pain in Makoto's voice tears into Haru, but at the same time, he feels relieved because he doesn't want Makoto to leave, doesn't want to lose him to anyone. It is greedy of him to want to keep Makoto to himself, but Haru can't help it. He had never been as good as Makoto at being selfless. 

The tightness of the jammer restricts Haru's motions so he eases it down until it bunches up around his knees. Haru raises his hips and smothers a needy cry against his pillow when the movement makes the head of his cock drag against the bedsheets. His dick leaves a wet trail of pre-cum on the cotton, but Haru ignores it. No time to worry about laundry right now.

His hand resumes its prior actions, speeding up as he feels himself nearing the edge. His pulse pounds in his ears, a whispered mantra of _Makoto, Makoto, Makoto_ falling from his lips in short gasps. He imagines Makoto beside him, imagines that it is Makoto's large hands working to bring him to completion.

_"Why did things turn out like this? But I guess this way is fine too. The position of childhood friend is more than enough for me."_

Haru presses his face further into the pillow, toes curling against the sheets from the overwhelming pleasure. He pushes three fingers into his mouth, imagining it is Makoto's cock. It is strange that it is only at this moment--amidst thoughts of his best and oldest friend interspersed with heady images of Makoto writhing under him--that Haru realises the depth of his feelings for Makoto. Looking back on it, it should have been obvious, but Haru had been too close to it to see it for what it is.

_"I want to hold you, kiss you everyday."_

Makoto's voice had turned uncharacteristically low and rough with emotion. Haru slides his tongue around the fingers in his mouth and sucks, no longer mindful of the sounds he was making. His hand pumps his erection desperately, eyes squeezed tightly shut as a wanton moan slips from his lips.

_"I like you, Haru."_

Haru comes with a shudder, hot, sticky cum spilling over his fingers and staining the dark cotton sheets. Wide-eyed shock followed by a growing sense of elation that was tempered by contentment and the sort of boneless exhaustion after orgasm makes him collapse onto the bed with a muffled 'oof'.

He can't wait to see Makoto tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is interested, here's the link to the track that inspired this whole thing: http://issaizanightofdesire.tumblr.com/post/58519083089/casually-leaves-this-for-makoto-mako-x-haru


	3. Chapter 3

The tatami mat under him is uncomfortably slick with sweat, the summer heat roiling within the bright, sun-lit living room. The TV provides muted background noise, flickering every so often as if trying to catch the eyes of the room's only occupant who is currently sprawled out on the floor with a frown. The shirt he had been planning on wearing lies crumpled and forgotten in the far corner of the room.

The wooden tatami slats dig into his naked back, but Haru can't muster the energy to sit up. He glances at the upside-down—at least it is upside-down from his position—clock and squints. 

_Almost 10 o'clock. He's late._

Makoto should be here by now. It is an unspoken tradition that Makoto always comes over around this time on Saturdays to make sure Haru doesn't stay in his tub for too long. Once, when Makoto couldn't come because Ren was in bed with a fever, Haru had fallen asleep in the bath and gotten a fever of his own. Makoto had nursed him back to health—which was nice, Haru had thought, because even Haru has his moments when he just wants someone to pamper him.

Still, Makoto always either called or texted whenever he couldn't go over to Haru's. Of course, he could just be late and it's not like they ever set a time for when he would come over so it is technically impossible for Makoto to be late because you can't be late for something that isn't even officially a thing. To be sure anyway, Haru glances at the phone beside him. 

_No new messages._

Smug little bastard. Haru flicks the phone screen in irritation.

He huffs, lifting sweaty bangs off his forehead with a grimace. He got out of the bath earlier than usual because he wanted to be there to open the door when Makoto came, had even thought to pull on a pair of shorts over his usual jammer, and Makoto chooses today to be late. This is not what Haru had imagined would happen today.

He wallows in self-pity, a pout subconsciously curving his mouth downward. He throws an arm over his face and wonders if Makoto is ever going to come.

"Haru-chan?"

Haru peeks up at Makoto standing in the doorway. He had been too busy silently grumbling about everything— _stupid weather, annoying, overly enthusiastic woman on the TV, he really should turn it off but the remote control is too far out of reach_ —that he hadn't heard Makoto knock. Although, he probably hadn't knocked all that loudly; Makoto has a habit of just letting himself into Haru's house.

"You're late."

"Sorry, I slept in," Makoto says with a shrug as he steps into the room. "I was kind of expecting you to still be in the tub, to be honest. Is anything wrong, Haru?"

"Not really."

Haru pulls himself up to a sitting position, Makoto taking his silent invitation to come sit beside him. The taller boy fidgets, obviously trying to work up the courage to say something. Haru lets him take his time; that had always been the way he was with Makoto. He would wait, and Makoto would tell him when he was ready.

Makoto takes a deep breath. It reminds Haru of last night's events, and he ducks his head just a bit to hide the flush on his cheeks. Regardless of his increasingly inappropriate thoughts, that is Haru's cue so he turns towards Makoto expectantly, hoping Makoto doesn't take notice of his unusually red face.

He shouldn't have worried. Makoto is too engrossed in nervously picking at a loose sliver on the tatami mat to look up at Haru. Rather, Makoto is too nervous to look Haru in the face, and Haru irrationally thinks that Makoto _did_ somehow find out about last night.

"This might sound weird, Haru, but was there something in the bag I left here yesterday?"

At Haru's raised eyebrow, Makoto hurriedly explains. "I mean, aside from the notes. Something like, um, a tape, or—?"

_Ah._

"Did you mean this?" Haru interrupts Makoto's impending rambling, pulling the cassette tape from his pocket and letting it dangle between his thumb and forefinger. His heartbeat speeds up in anticipation; he had been worrying about how to broach the topic with Makoto so this turn of events is more than welcome.

"U-uh, yeah, that's it," Makoto laughs nervously, lightly trembling hands reaching for it. "You didn't listen to it or anything, right?"

"I did." A blush creeps its way on Haru's face. He turns his face away, trying desperately to keep his rapidly-disintegrating composure intact. "Until the end."

_Oh, I listened to it, all right._

Haru surreptitiously presses his thighs together as the memory of jerking off to his best friend's voice blooms unbidden in his thoughts. He watches Makoto through half-lidded eyes, waiting for his reaction.

Haru didn't know humans are capable of blushing that brightly; he is actually a bit worried that Makoto might pass out from overheating. Makoto covers his face with both hands, hunching over as if he wanted to disappear.

"I-I'm sorry."

Haru cocks his head in confusion.

"Why?"

Makoto jumps at Haru's bluntness. Haru's expression softens at this, wordlessly reassuring him with a fleeting touch on his arm. Makoto just hugs his knees to his chest, pointedly staring at anything but Haru. The tape lies between them, deceptively innocent in its clear, plastic case.

"Because you probably think it's disgusting, right? A guy liking another guy, it's not exactly normal, is it?"

"Why should I care about that?" Haru asks, genuinely bemused. He never even thought about it like that; Makoto is Makoto, and that has always been how Haru has looked at him. 

"Because—!" Makoto starts. "I don't know," he continues in a broken whisper. "I didn't want you to find out like this. I wanted to stay by your side forever, I—"

"So stay." Haru moves closer and rests his cheek against Makoto's shoulder. He isn't really very good at talking about his feelings, so this is all he could think to do. 

_Stay._

Makoto finally meets his gaze. Makoto had told him before that his eyes communicate a lot more than his words do. It must have been true, because one look and the clouds lift away from Makoto's own green eyes and Haru almost turns shyly away from the warm affection in Makoto's smile. But he resolutely stares back, wanting Makoto to see his thoughts.

_I like you too, Makoto._

There was a time when Haru would have pulled back from a situation like this, but not now. Not now, when he just realised that he and Makoto had been idiots not to see what they had right here between them.

"Makoto."

"Mm?"

"I'm sorry I listened to the tape without your permission."

Makoto smiles again, bashfully hooking his pinky into Haru's. "It all turned out okay, didn't it? So, it's fine. Don't worry about it." Love glows openly on Makoto's face, lingering in the corners of his smile and hiding in the soft green of his eyes. 

"A-and," Haru swallows audibly. He didn't want to have to admit this, but he feels he owes it to Makoto who had practically bared everything—figuratively, of course—for Haru to see. "I jerked off while listening to your voice. Sorry."

Makoto's eyes widen comically. "Oh! Well," he stammers, looking as if he is hyperventilating. "Um, okay."

Haru stares down at their linked hands, belatedly wondering if he should have kept that little tidbit to himself after all. But he didn't, so no use crying over spilt milk. It had been said, it's out there, and he would just have to deal with it.

He sneaks a look at Makoto and finds him staring intently at Haru's crotch with bright, curious eyes. Haru coughs, sure that his own face must be starting to closely resemble a tomato by now. 

Makoto, realising he had been caught, just giggles nervously. Neither of them know where to look, eyes darting all over the room in a desperate attempt to break the awkwardness. The cries of the cicadas outside stretch out in the tense silence, the mundaneness of the sound a stark contrast to the unusual situation they found themselves in.

The hot, summer air is so heavy with tension that Haru feels like he is drowning in it. He is hyper-aware of Makoto just a few inches away from him, his mouth suddenly dry as his gaze sweeps down the brunet's form.

Haru follows a tiny droplet of sweat as it rolls down Makoto's jaw, down past his collarbone, disappearing into his shirt. The shirt that is currently plastered to his body, outlining defined muscles that Haru was itching to touch. His ears strain to catch the sound of Makoto's breathing; the way it hitches whenever their gazes accidentally meet is deliciously hot. 

Indecisiveness has never been one of Haru's traits. He may take a while to come to a decision, but once he has, he takes action. Beating around the bush accomplishes nothing but frustration.

Haru grips Makoto's chin lightly, turning the other's face towards him. He returns Makoto's surprised gaze with a calm that comes from the sudden clarity that this is Makoto—ever-present, constant Makoto—so he has no real reason to be apprehensive. Makoto has seen him at his most vulnerable, just as he himself had been there when Makoto buried his goldfish and cried for hours as he clutched Haru's hand.

He traces the familiar shape of Makoto's lips with his thumb then presses his slightly chapped lips against Makoto's soft, trembling mouth. He waits for a few heartbeats, giving Makoto a chance to pull away if he wanted to. 

Makoto sighs against his lips and cups his cheeks lightly.

It isn't perfect; neither of them had any experience with kissing so their teeth clack together and their noses occasionally bump against each other and Makoto almost bites down on Haru's tongue in surprise when he slips it past the brunet's lips. But because it is Makoto, Haru soldiers on until it feels almost natural to be lip-locked with his best friend while the TV hums infomercials about vacuum cleaners in the background.

They part, a thin string of saliva connecting their lips. Makoto looks irresistible as he pants, eyes darkened with want. 

"Haru-chan," he groans, reaching for Haru.

"Drop the -chan."

Haru meets him halfway, wrapping his arms around Makoto's neck and angling his head so he could kiss Makoto better. He climbs into Makoto's lap, straddling him and forcing the brunet to plant an arm behind him to keep them upright. A large hand slides up the length of Haru's spine, trailing liquid heat on his skin. He presses closer, reveling in the feel of Makoto's firm body against his chest.

Haru feels light-headed and dizzy as their kisses, which had started out innocently enough, become urgent and heated, both eager to explore each other. Makoto keeps a firm grip on Haru's nape, long fingers playfully tugging at short, dark hair. The sharp mint taste of Makoto's toothpaste is on his tongue, and Haru thinks that he would forever associate toothpaste with the memory of his first kiss.

Haru becomes aware of a throbbing in his groin akin to what he had felt last night; now, however, he doesn't have to imagine what Makoto would feel like. He is right here with him, ready and willing.

He pushes the brunet down a bit too quickly, Makoto uttering a soft 'ouch' when his head thumps against the wooden floor. Haru offers a silent apology that is quickly accepted with an understanding smile. 

Haru leans down, choosing this time to kiss along Makoto's throat. The vibrations of Makoto's answering moan tingle along Haru's torso, going straight to his dick. Makoto's hands grip Haru's shoulders tightly, breath fanning across Haru's bare, sweat-slicked skin. Makoto arches his back, baring his neck for Haru. Haru nips at his collarbone, drawing a surprised yelp from the brunet. 

He swivels his hips, trying to relieve the pressure of the growing erection in his shorts. At Makoto's strangled cry, he realises he is in the perfect position to grind down into Makoto. The urge to do so is mouthwateringly irresistible, but he isn't sure if Makoto is ready for that.

Haru gives an experimental push, just barely letting their clothed erections touch. He watches Makoto's reaction closely. 

"Is this okay?"

Makoto turns his face to the side, a small nod and a furious blush answering Haru's question. A rare smile spreads across Haru's face. 

He begins moving in earnest, thrusting against Makoto. Harsh pants fill the sun-soaked room, and Haru thinks that Makoto squirming beneath him, his mouth falling open as he whispers Haru's name reverently over and over again in that low voice that drives Haru insane with desire, is the most erotic sight he had ever laid eyes on. Each thrust of his hips squeezes a moan from Makoto, each moan louder than the last. Haru kisses him again, teasing Makoto's tongue with his own.

The need to feel Makoto's bare skin becomes overwhelming, so Haru pushes the hem of Makoto's shirt up and splays his fingers on his toned abdomen. He rubs circles across the newly-revealed expanse of skin as he coaxes the shy Makoto into opening his mouth wider, into parting his legs a little bit more so Haru could have more room to work with as he fucks Makoto against the floor.

He would have wanted to get rid of the shirt altogether, but judging from the way Makoto's hips are desperately bucking up into him and the rapidly tightening coiling heat in his own groin, they are both too close to bother with something like that.

Haru releases Makoto's lips with a wet pop then leans back, hands planted behind him, gripping Makoto's outstretched legs for leverage as he moves frantically against Makoto, seeking to push them both over the edge. Makoto's fingers dig into Haru's hips, low, keening noises flowing past kiss-swollen lips. 

Makoto's body tenses beneath him. Haru stares down at him from beneath dark lashes, wanting to brand this image of Makoto breathless with lust into his mind.

"Haru, I'm—"

The sight of Makoto's face as he comes combined with the little sobbing whimpers of pleasure that wrack his large frame triggers Haru's own orgasm. He rides it out, grinding against Makoto until the aftershocks wear off. 

Haru flops down onto Makoto, sated and happy. He feels Makoto press a chaste kiss against his temple, hears the murmured _thank you, Haru_ before it is swallowed up by the peaceful silence. Haru closes his eyes, the rush of affection he felt for the boy who had been with him for so long almost frightening him with its intensity. He welcomes it though, letting it wash over him the way water does when he swims.

He rests his head against Makoto's heart. 

_I can hear it now, Makoto._

"Haru, you can't sleep here," Makoto laughs. 

"Watch me," Haru replies with a pout, resolutely squeezing his eyes closed. He didn't want to let go of Makoto just yet. 

With a long-suffering sigh, Makoto arranges his and Haru's limbs so they lie more comfortably—as comfortably as the hard wooden floor would allow, that is. 

The humid heat is just a hint shy of unbearable, and the sweat and cum on their skin and clothes is more than a little sticky and uncomfortable, but Makoto's chest is against his back, his breath tickling the back of his neck and Haru thinks that surely _this_ is what happiness feels like. The sound of the whirring fan across the room, the subdued murmur of the TV, the steadiness of the arms wrapped around his waist, and the whisper of _I love you_ against his ear envelops Haru like the ocean and welcomes him home.

He nudges Makoto with an elbow, an idea forming in his mind. Makoto stares back at him with a sleepy gaze.

"Come take a bath with me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the fail ending T_T. I couldn't think of a good one...


End file.
